


Poison in the Well

by Mek



Series: Weapons of Choice [1]
Category: Inception (2010), Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Arthur!Whumping, F/M, Flashbacks, Happy(ish) ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, No Dreamshare Just Jaegers, POV Third Person Limited, Past Non-canonical Very Minor Character Deaths, Pre-Movie, Sasha does not like being the voice of reason, Slightly Canon Divergent for Pacific Rim, Soul Bond, You know things are bad when Sasha is your voice of reason, past canonical character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mek/pseuds/Mek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marshall Pentecost announces that the Pan Pacific Defense Corp is shuttering the Jaeger Program and that all remaining Jaegers will be restationed to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Arthur says “Hong Kong? Eames is in Hong Kong,” as if it means something to anyone other than himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything is Fine

**Author's Note:**

> When you see Arsha, it's not a typo. I just took a stab at the diminutive form of Arthur in Russian. :)
> 
> EDIT: Thanks to mine22 for clarification. Turns out I was way off with trying to form a diminutive form of Arthur and have swapped out Arsha with Arti.

When Marshall Pentecost announces that the Pan Pacific Defense Corp is shuttering the Jaeger Program and that all remaining Jaegers will be restationed to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Arthur says “Hong Kong? Eames is in Hong Kong,” as if it means something to anyone other than himself. Dom just grins at him, obviously misjudging his sentiment. Not for the first time Arthur is glad that even though Dom is his copilot there is no residual connection between them. No drift hangover to deal with, much less the constant bond of ghost drifting.

Arthur turns back to watch Pentecost's projected face wrap up his admittedly inspiring speech about last stands. Once he’s done and the hologram winks out, the LA Shatterdome is stunned quiet before folks launch into motion and chatter. Two months.  That’s it. That’s all they have to get Spin Ringer, the last Jaeger in LA, and anything that isn't nailed down that might be of use across the Pacific Ocean. The amount of prep-work is insane and everyone holds their breath that a Kaiju won't pop out of the breach and make a beeline for LA.  

The _thump-thump-thump_ of pile drivers building the Long Beach anti-Kaiju wall get closer to the Shatterdome every day. The progress marks time and amplifies the tension that snips everyone’s tempers shorter. Dom’s normally tentative grip on sanity loosens a bit more, leaving him crazy-eyed. Arthur is forced to step up and manage him even more than usual. It leaves Arthur with barely any time to sleep and certainly not any time to turn his thoughts inward.

Of course the blissful detachment that hyper-focus and sleep deprivation brings doesn't last forever.  Fifty-nine days after the announcement, they're underway. The first night he's tucked into his bunk in the belly of a Ford Class aircraft carrier, Arthur snaps awake, disoriented. Heart pounding, sweat dripping from his clammy skin, an echo of Mal whispering _My Love_ pounding in his skull takes him hostage and rattles his senses.

Every night after is an encore.

The closer the carrier gets to Hong Kong, the more it feels like the world's axis has titled off-kilter. It dredges up an anger Arthur hasn't felt in a very long time - claws at his nerves and makes his skin feel tight, brittle, and cracked.

And he aches.

 _Jesus Christ, does he ache_.  Deep-seated in his heart, and head, and ghost, and soul.

And he hates.

Hates that he feels like this.

Hates that after two years he's back to square fucking one.

If Dom notices that Arthur is wound tighter and his thoughts skewed darker, he doesn't say anything.

Then again, that isn't exactly unexpected nor an accident.

Arthur keeps his shit together.

That's just who he is.

By the time they hop a helicopter from the carrier to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Arthur's agitated and snapping and the crew has been giving him a wide berth for days.  Vice Marshall Saito is waiting for them on deck in the safety zone with a polite smile.  When Arthur and Dom reach him, Arthur raises his hand to salute but Saito proffers his own hand like he's once again the businessman he hasn't been in eight years.  

"Mr. Levine. The circumstance is unfortunate; however, I am pleased that you are once again under my command."

Arthur mirrors Saito's polite smile, shakes his hand, says, "Thank you, Sir," and means it.

"And this must be Mr. Cobb." Saito does not offer to shake his hand and patiently waits for a salute before continuing. It's oddly vindicating.  For what, Arthur doesn't have a goddamn clue.  All he knows is that that watching Dom awkwardly swoop his hand up to his own temple for a quick snap of protocol tethers him, reminds him that yes, there are still a few people out there that know him, that have his back.

"In the interest of efficiency, I request that you attend the day's briefing first and then settle in." The thing about requests from Saito is that they are never requests and always orders.

"Of course," Arthur replies for them both.

"Excellent. Briefing room four.  Now, if you’ll forgive me, there are other matters which I must attend to," he informs them, half bowing, and then walking away purposefully.  Arthur can't tell if their meet and greet was an accident or an intentionally taken aside from Saito's day.

"So, do you know where that is?" Dom asks, eyes following Saito off the deck.

It seems like a lifetime ago that Arthur was stationed here, but the layout is coming back in snippets and slow-to-resurrect muscle memory. "This way," he says and starts walking toward the entrance that has the elevator that will put them closest to where they need to be.  

Once they're secluded in a utility elevator Dom shakes his head slowly, obviously winding himself up to speak.  "I always forget that you're one of the Proclus Security people."

Arthur shrugs. "Easy to forget.  There's not many of us left." Himself. Saito. Sasha. Two or three others.  Compared to the forty or so the PPDC had contracted from Saito's private military firm when the Jaeger program was first spun up and then eventually transitioned to being rank and file. Not many left at all.

"You just don't look the part.  I imagine thug-looking guys with prison tattoos.  Like Eames, for instance.  It makes sense that he came from Proclus." Dom says the last bit as an afterthought and Arthur wants to punch him.

There's reasons why his mind has stripped Eames of a name and tossed him into the "two or three others" category. "Eames' tattoos are many things, but from prison isn't one of them."

"Not even one of those little crosses?"

"Between him and me, I'm the one who's actually done time," Arthur replies before he knows what he's saying.

Dom about gives himself whiplash with how quickly his head turns towards Arthur, his eyes narrowing to a squint. "Wait, what? When? For how long? How do I not know this?"

Arthur tries not to clench his jaw too tightly, furious with himself.  Where the _hell_ had that come from?  But now that it's out there he knows he can't deflect.  Dom will go at it like a dog with a bone until he gets answers that satisfy him, so Arthur distills it all down to simple sentences and bland tone. "I was seventeen. Six months for selling drugs. They tried me as an adult.  Judge wanted to teach me a lesson." His mother vanishing for three weeks was normal.  Her not paying the rent was an eventuality he had planned for.  Selling some of her pills to an undercover was the curveball. "It's not something I really talk about."

"Jesus Christ, Arthur."

Thankfully Dom doesn't tack on an _I'm sorry_ because Arthur isn't. Those six months were transformative for him and not in the ways the system had hoped. By the time he'd gotten out he'd put on twenty pounds of muscle, mastered speed-reading, and was pissed off at everything and everyone. Upon his release, one of the fairest yet most terrifying guards had slipped him a card with just a phone number on it. Said it was solid work and good pay. Arthur had dialed it that night from the shelter he'd landed in and the number had rolled directly to an answering service where he'd left a pissed-off voicemail. Three hours later, Saito had returned his call.

That… that was fourteen years ago.

The realization unexpectedly dazes Arthur, causing him to blink owlishly as the utility elevator squeals to a halt and the door splits in half horizontally and retracts.  He follows Dom into the corridor, then jerks to a stop. Memories of his time stationed in Hong Kong snap to the forefront of his mind and dump the weight of their baggage into his muscles, leaving him raw and frozen.

"You alright?" Dom asks.  

Arthur, is finally able to move, nods. "I'm fine," he says and feigns glancing down the various corridors like he's trying to catch his bearings. "Briefing room is this way," he says and starts walking, not waiting for Dom to catch up to him, not waiting to give Dom a chance to really look at him before he can regain his composure. This isn't like him. Not like him at all. The thought tumbles through his mind like a mantra, as if the repetition will somehow reign in his psyche from going rogue again.

By the time they reach the briefing room, Arthur has himself mostly under control.  It's obvious they have a bit of time before things get started, the dozen or so people present engaged in casual conversation or staring intently at their mobiles.  Almost everyone ignores their entrance.

Almost, but not quite.

"We should probably grab seats near--" Dom begins.

"Arti!" Sasha's loud and brash in both voice and appearance, her bleached-blonde hair and violently red lipstick screaming in the visual murmur of military drab. She yanks him into a fierce embrace because the damn crazy Russians have never taken _I'm not a hugger_ as a viable reason not to.  After years of these kinds of greetings, Arthur knows better to relax once she's let him go.  Right behind her is her mountain of a husband Aleksis, who immediately steps into the space she's vacated, wraps his arms around Arthur, and almost lifts him off the floor.

Dom clears his throat subtly and Arthur launches into a quick introduction, and it's painfully clear that Dom doesn't meet whatever gold standard Sasha and Aleksis judge people by. To extract himself from their scrutiny, Dom mumbles, "I'll go find us some seats near the front."

Arthur arches an eyebrow and even though they just treated his copilot like shit, he can't help but grin. "It's good to see both of you. Been too long."

"Two years," Sasha replies and Arthur's joy falters. Her eyes narrow and her head ticks to the side, because although socially she may be brash and loud, she's perceptive as hell.

"I'm fine," he answers to her unspoken question.

"I have heard that lie too frequently as of late," she says and poignantly flicks her gaze over his shoulder.  Arthur doesn't need to turn around to know that Eames has just come in and he refuses to look.

"Ariadne," Sasha mutters. "Green, just out of Jaeger Academy. Top of class," she snorts dismissively."Penrose deserves better."

Arthur’s curiosity gets the better of him, forces him to turn and look. He doesn't need to be told which of the people standing in the loose huddle around Eames is Ariadne.  He can see the body language, the way the slip of a woman and Eames are turned towards each other.  There's camaraderie and connection there, a fondness in Eames' expression when his attention is turned on her and it makes Arthur’s stomach drop and blood pressure ratchet up.  Eames’ gaze suddenly flicks over to them, eyes instantly locking with Arthur's.  For a brief moment his face contorts into something angry and ugly and all Arthur can bitterly think is _good_.

Their nasty little line of sight is broken when Tendo enters ordering folks to take a seat so that they can get started.  When Arthur turns to Sasha, her eyes are focused intensely on him, assessing.

"I'm going over by Dom," he tells her. Irrationally it feels like he's abandoning her and Aleksis, but she hums thoughtfully and turns away.  Arthur cuts across the front of the room, and as he passes the podium where Tendo is getting set up, his attention snaps to him.

"Levine!" Tendo cheers and reaches around the podium to clap him on the shoulder.

Arthur nods in greeting. "Tendo."

"Once you get settled come find me, man.  I need to pick your brain."

"Yeah, definitely," he replies.  Arthur finally sits and takes in the room, all the familiar faces, all the camaraderie, and connection and… it’s surreal.  After Penrose Chip was damaged beyond standard repair and he was officially reassigned to Spin Ringer--

Arthur inhales sharply as the ache in his ghost and terror his dreams from the night before had evoked wrap around his mind like barbed wire and constrict and _Christ_ … this has _got_ to stop.

Because in his dreams, Penny isn’t damaged beyond standard repair.  Only her visor is shattered and the interior of her conn-pod is splattered with blood.

Arthur blinks and the moment passes, but he’s left raw with it.  He casts a quick glance around the room and notices a few of his crew looking at him cautiously.

He winces at the slip of possessive pronoun.

Penny’s crew isn’t his crew anymore.

She doesn't belong to him anymore.

Even if a terrifyingly large part of him still belongs to her.

It takes him longer than it should to realize Dom has gone quiet and still next to him.

"You all right?" Arthur finds himself asking out of deflection and reflex, knowing full well Dom isn't.

"I'm fine," is, as expected, the reply and Arthur can't help but wonder how many times they've paired these two phrases creating an hollow call-response.  He knows he should press, knows that there's a time when he would have without thinking.  But right now, Arthur is exhausted, and he's caught enough curveballs in the last twenty minutes that he just doesn't have it in him to once again try to share the weight of Dom's demons.

Thankfully, Tendo launches into the briefing sooner rather than later.  Arthur writes every scrap of information down in the moleskine he keeps in the right thigh pocket of his BDUs.  It's all straightforward and boring, even with Tendo's more conversational approach to briefings. The thing is though, the briefing lacks any real tactical meat.  

When the floor is opened to questions, Dom sits up a bit straighter and says, "We've been told that there's an offensive plan being developed.  Can we get some insight as to what that might consist of?"

Tendo nods. "We're still working on it. Make no mistake, we are not going to go quietly. K-Science is exploring two tracks that are looking hopeful."

"Hopeful? We need to do a little better than _hope_ ," Arthur says knowing it makes him sound like a dick, but this wishy-washy answering isn't making him happy.

"Thank you for your contribution, Arthur," Eames pipes up and it's like a punch to the gut.

"Forgive me for wanting a little specificity, Eames," Arthur snaps.  It's the first time they've spoken to each other in over a year and a half. Where there once would have been a smirk and teasing lit to the exchange, now there are only shuttered expressions and clipped words.

Tendo easily gets the room back under his control, his years of directing and interacting with Jaeger pilots during combat while he's their range eyes and ears in LOCCENT mission control screaming through. Without any more questions to field the meeting ends and they're all dismissed, but Arthur remains seated and seething, gaze fixed steadily on the middle distance. It's only when Eames has left the room that he can let himself stand to move without concern about what he might say or do.

This isn't like him.  

Not like him at all.


	2. Under Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur looks at Dom hard and tries to remember the man he'd met years ago at Brawler Yukon's second demo.  Grief has always been a part of him, but this wildness that has him testing hacked-together hardware without a million questions and answers first...it's terrifying. In LA things were controlled chaos.  Arthur could protect Dom from himself and keep them both moving forward.  But here?  Arthur suddenly feels incredibly weary. 
> 
> How much longer can either of them really keep this up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the Arthur!Whumping begin! \o/

At 15:23 on the second day after they arrive in Hong Kong Arthur gets a text from Yusuf.

_Just saw Cobb going into k-science. I fear for our safety and humanity's future. BTW welcome to HK! Pls swing by the infirmary for a physical at your earliest convenience._

He closes his eyes.  It's a testament to how exhausted he is that his equilibrium goes a little off and his eyes burn with relief.  Arthur shouldn't be surprised that Dom is in K-Science.  Dr. Lightcap had been a contemporary of Dom's, and Mal's father had been one of her mentors.  Those kind of associations plus Dom's own work have let him over-extend his reach as a Jaeger pilot and gotten him into more than one K-Science lab over the years.

Arthur's mobile vibrates again with another message. This one is from Yusuf as well.

_And by earliest convenience I mean by EOD tomorrow._

Before he goes to retrieve Dom, Arthur fires off a quick response of _Thanks, will do_.  He'll deal with the physical tomorrow. Right now Spin Ringer is on deck if there's a Kaiju attack and K-Science is practically the furthest point possible from the  Drivesuit room.  Sure, they could make the target deployment window but it'd be one hell of a breakneck run across the Shatterdome.  Given their luck as of late it’s almost a given that that's exactly what will happen.

When Arthur gets to K-Science the door is open just enough for him to slip in.  He surveys the room and freezes.  There's a scientist there, short, glasses, dark hair in disarray staring intently at what looks more like a science fair project than state-of-the-art tech.  Said tech has a cord running to a metal headset that _of course_ Dom is wearing.  Dom, whose eyes are closed and who is so incredibly slouched in a chair that he can rest his head on its back.  Anger sparks in Arthur’s chest.  They could be deployed at any moment and Dom has got himself wired up to some goddamned experiment.

Dom opens his eyes and sits up.  "Anything?" 

The scientist shakes his head in tight little irritated movements. "Nope.  Not getting any readings.  Damn, I really thought I had it this time."

"You'll get it.  It did feel like I was interfacing with something,” Dom replies as he shucks the headset and hooks it on a protruding L bracket on the machine.  “Going back to what you were saying earlier though...you need to take your theory one step further." 

"Wait, are you encouraging me?  Because encouraging me is kinda frowned upon."

"Look, think about it,” Dom says and leans forward.   “You've already proven that Kaiju have the potential for soft inheritance..."

Even if Arthur doesn't completely understand what Dom is talking about he knows exactly where this is going.  Dom only gets this intense about one thing.

The scientist nods like what they're talking about is old territory.  "That was the easy part.  The hard part is accessing those inherited memories."

Extraction.

Solid in theory, but not so much in practice.  Not even Dom's old research that stood on the shoulders of giants back when he worked for DARPA could get it to work with the experimental fighter pilot neural uplinks.  The same uplinks that are the foundation of the Pons System that the Jaegers use to facilitate Drifting. 

Rather than agreeing like he usually would at this point in the conversation though, Dom keeps talking.

"What if, rather than trying to extract the information we try to plant it..."

Arthur narrows his eyes at the new twist to Dom’s old song and dance.

"No way no how," is thankfully the response Dom gets. "At this point we only have a rudimentary understanding of how the Kaiju brain functions.  Our assessment and predictive capabilities are about as good as phrenology at this point.  Which is why we need a live Kaiju. Or at least a bigger chunk of brain than what I got here."

"It's worth exploring though, right?"

"Man, and they call _me_ crazy.  I like you."

And that is Arthur's cue to make his presence known.  "You really think we can weaponize the Pons?"

Both jump and the scientist snaps, "Dude! Not cool!"

But that's of little interest to Arthur.  The blood that starts to trickle from Dom's nose is what catches his attention.  Dom raises his hand to his upper lip and curses softly which sends all focus back to him.

In a flurry of nervous energy the scientist pulls down a roll or paper towels, rips one off, and hands it to Dom.  "Oh, shit. Yeah, sorry.  That happens sometimes, I should have warned you,"  

Arthur looks at Dom hard and tries to remember the man he'd met years ago at Brawler Yukon's second demo.  Grief has always been a part of him, but this wildness that has him testing hacked-together hardware without a million questions and answers first...it's terrifying. In LA things were controlled chaos.  Arthur could protect Dom from himself and keep them both moving forward.  But here?  Arthur suddenly feels incredibly weary. 

How much longer can either of them really keep this up?

"I have it under control,"  Dom tells him and makes eye contact with Arthur as if he can will him to believe.

Arthur picks up the parts of what looks to be a second Pons headset. "I'd hate to see it out of control."

The scientist springs up and takes a few hurried steps towards him as soon as Arthur lifts the tech. "I'm sorry, excuse me, don't touch. You are?"

"Arthur," he says, arching an eyebrow as he sets the Macgyvered Pons cap back down.  

"Well, um, hi Arthur, I'm Newt..."

"It's fine. He's my copilot," Dom says.

Newt's face scrunches up in confusion and turns back to Dom.  "Huh. Then why'd you jump?"

"Pardon?" Dom asks.

"Don't you guys ghost Drift?  Why'd you jump when he said something?  Shouldn't you have known he was in the room?" Newt says, hands gesturing between them.

Dom exhales slowly and suddenly looks so very exhausted and guilty and Arthur has a hard time empathizing with him anymore.  "Oh...that's, that's my problem.  My wife, Mal.  She died when we were in the Drift together.  It's prevented certain aspects of co-piloting from manifesting between Arthur and me."

It's at this point that Arthur decides that he both hates and respects Newt by the way he obviously doesn't buy it.

"That's all very sad and touching but to me, and as someone with some serious credentials to back me I feel like I can say this, that all sounds more _Pilot Magazine_ , less peer-reviewed journal. My guess is that one of you is either blank-slating, forging, or an unstudied phenomenon is being expressed.  Either way the cognitive load of something like that is enough to send someone off into crazy land if they do it a few times much less...how long you guys been co-pilots?"

"Two years,"  Arthur answers flatly keeping a tight reign on the agitation that unfurls and mingles with the residual anger in his chest from Dom’s carelessness.

Newt shakes his head again, intense and defiant. "Yeah. Someone is definitely about ready to take a long walk off of a short pier.  If they haven't already."

Dom's eyes begin to narrow, winding up into a full squint, but he doesn't have a chance to reply because the Kaiju warning system tones start sounding and the emergency lights begin to flash around them.

_God dammit._

Arthur takes off running down the corridors with Dom's footsteps pounding behind him. They're halfway across the Shatterdome when Tendo's voice squawks from their mobiles.  "Spin Ringer, you're up.  Category three Kaiju, code name Tailspitter.  Projected target is Japan."

The Driveroom elevator is open and waiting for them when they reach it, thank God.  Without looking, Arthur hits the button that'll take them to the highest point of the Shatterdome.  As they ascend, both he and Dom frantically strip off their clothes in prep to suit up.  They're just cutting it too close for modesty right now.  When the doors open Arthur glances at the engagement clock to see how much time they have until launch.

T- 00:03:00 minutes.

The techs look grim but professional as they usher Arthur and Dom out and to their respective suit-up positions in the Driveroom.  Arthur steps into the familiar compression of the circuitry suit that'll relay their actions to Ringer and force feedback from her to them.  Once that's zipped and fastened shut, Arthur spreads his arms wide as the hard battle armor is snapped and riveted together.  He checks the engagement clock again.

T- 00:01:33.

It's one last race across the gangway to Ringer's Conn-Pod, a muttered _Come on, come on_ when the rig takes its time to lock them into the harness and for the Jaeger AI to activate.

" _Pilots ready to connect.  Initiating neural bridge_ ," it sing-songs.

T- 00:00:14

Arthur inhales deeply, lets his chest rise and expand.  Lets the breath calm and completely clear his mind as the rush of the Drift floods--

The world slams into focus, bright and harsh.  Arthur's ears ring, his muscles burn with exhaustion, and his skin feels gritty and chilled with drying sweat.

"Welcome back, Spin Ringer.  Good work out there," Tendo says over the COMs.

Arthur looks at the engagement clock and tries not to panic.

T+ 07:45:13.

Fuck.

Just _...fuck._

He's lost almost eight hours.

Dom is already disengaged from the rig.  "You coming?"

"Yeah.  Yeah, I'll be out in a minute, just want to check on something."

"Okay," Dom says and leaves, none the wiser to the fact that Arthur is a breath away from coming apart at the seams.

None the wiser that Newt is completely right.

Arthur has been blank-slating.

He can Drift with Dom because he brings nothing into the Drift and he knows Dom better than the man probably knows himself.  The hardest part of blank-slating  is that he still maddeningly has to hold on to trusting Dom.  Because if that were ever to falter then so would their connection.  To do all of this time and time again comes at a cost, though.  And the cost is getting higher.

A foreign worry that twists and amplifies with fears he's refused to address skitters across the back of Arthur’s mind. Piloting Ringer and managing Dom all at once has started leaving Arthur rattled with wide gaps in his memory. It's why he's made a habit of reviewing each engagement, finding out what they did, and being thankful for muscle memory and his natural instinct of fighting because those are the only things getting them through.  The blackouts are almost a solace. Because before them, every time they Drifted it'd feel like Mal was lurking in his peripheral vision seething with anger and vengeance.  He knows most of the crews think that Ringer is haunted, cursed even, and honestly he's inclined to believe it.

That acknowledgment of inclination sends Arthur spiraling down and the damned part is that he _knows_ better.  He's been in this position before.  He knows what to do.  But that doesn't seem to matter because he begins to hyperventilate anyway as his vision stutters between Ringer's current Conn-Pod and the shattered bloody mess of her old one.

All he has to do is calm himself and not focus on memories that aren't his own hijacking his senses.

He just needs to collect himself.  Just needs to--

"Alright there, Arthur?"

The unexpected timbre of Eames' voice rakes across Arthur’s mind and yanks him down into all that he has tried so hard to stay above.  And his body pays the price with pain and shakes and his eyes roll back and his vision fills with Mal still alive and beatific.

_My Love, Mal says but he can't make out the rest as--_

                 "Bloody hell, _no_. Medic! Someone get Yusuf! _"_ Eames yells frantically.

_\--Ringer powers down even as Tendo yells proximity warnings.  The Jaeger shudders with impact as the bug-like Kaiju,_ _Belobog,_ _latches--_

                 "What the hell, Eames? What's going on? Get out of my--" Dom's voice is--

_\--onto Ringer's torso, opens its mouth wide, strikes out with its prehensile tongue--_

                 --interrupted by the sickening smack of fist meeting flesh.

_\--shatters Ringer's visor, and impales Mal before it curls-_

                 "You call yourself his bloody co-pilot _,"_  Eames snaps, his fury tangible.

_\--and rips her from Ringer's Conn-Pod all within the span of seconds._

Arthur’s body arches and he gasps for air, trying so hard to fill lungs.  He feels himself manhandled, lifted and shifted, the jar and click of the rig disengaging, and then the solid flatness of the deck beneath him.  His helmet is ripped off and a strong, familiar yet long absent hand cups his face and it's enough to banish the sense memory of shredded lungs and finally, _Jesus Christ,_ finally he can breathe.

"I'm here, Arthur, I'm here.  Just hold on, darling, help is coming."

As Arthur slips into unconsciousness, his vision is filled with a horrifying replay.

Only now it's not Mal being impaled and ripped from Ringer.

It's not Mal Arthur has failed.

It's Eames.

 

* * *

  

Arthur wakes up in the infirmary with an IV needle in the top of his right hand and the plastic tubing of a nasal cannula looped behind his ears.  The saline drip makes him feel bloated and the forced oxygen dehydrated but those juxtaposed sensations are nothing compared to how threadbare his nerves and knotted his muscles are. 

But what makes this well and truly a living hell is Eames.

Eames, who has pulled a chair up close to the bed and is still gripping Arthur's hand even in sleep.  He looks like a goddamn wreck hunched over, pressing the side of his face to the bed, and drooling on the sheets.  Arthur's eyes snap shut because the ache that's been hunting him, always lingering just out of reach when he is able to shove it aside, descends on him swift and so fucking _hard,_ raking over his oversensitized nerves and body.

_Christ_ , how easy it would be to give in to the need of touch.  All it would take is a firm tug of Eames’ hand to pull him awake and up into an awkward sprawl on the too-narrow gurney.

There's a shift in weight, a rustle of fabric, and Arthur forces himself to open his eyes.  Eames is awake, his breath caught. They stare at each other for a moment until Eames sees something that causes his eyes to widen and his shoulders to slump.

"Oh, love..." Eames says quietly, hesitant and sad.  He reaches out an open hand to no doubt cup Arthur's face and there's no fucking way Arthur can let that happen.  Arthur resolutely jerks his head away, jaw locked.  He can't let Eames touch him any more than he already is.  Because if he does?  Arthur will fucking lose it and that's not something he's about to do any time soon.  Dom needs him, Ringer needs him, and while he might not have a duty to the PPDC anymore, Arthur sure as hell does to his fellow remaining rangers and their crews.

Anyway, Arthur’s not the one who left.

"Right then," Eames says and nods but it's just motion without meaning.  Arthur squeezes his eyes shut again, clings to his anger, and protects himself from having to watch Eames pull away and shutter his expression, hide how absolutely wrecked he is with a convincing front of wry indifference. "I'll go see if I can't find Yusuf."

When Yusuf finally comes in there's no sign of Eames and Arthur is almost sick with relief.

"I'm going to be blunt.  I've put in a recommendation that Ringer be removed from the roster and that you be put on temporary medical leave."

"You can't do that," Arthur bites out, his fists clenched, white-knuckled.

Yusuf just blinks at him for a moment, caught off guard. "I can and I have.  Your vitals are all over the board and if you want proof that you're not well enough to pilot a Jaeger, take a good look in the bloody mirror.  You look like shite, mate.  That physical you were scheduled for?  Was an order from Saito.  He made it after you arrived, _only_ for you, and I can see why.  I've not a clue as to what's been going on in LA--"

"Look, Dom and Ringer need me.  We're so close.   Yusuf, you can't expect--"

"Close to what?" Yusuf interrupts calmly.

"To getting Dom back to his kids!" Arthur snaps because it should be fucking obvious. It's all they've been working towards for two yea--

A heavy tense silence settles and Arthur knows he's said something horrifically wrong.

"It is my understanding," Yusuf says carefully, "that the Cobbs' children were among those killed on K-Day..."

Arthur clenches his jaw tight and swallows thickly before answering.  "They were."

"You know I have to ground you."

"Yeah.  I know."

And that's that.

After he's released from the infirmary Arthur does not sleep for three days. He only ventures out at odd hours to the mess hall where he stuffs the pockets of his BDUs with bagels, boxes of raisins, and jerky. The rest of the time he holes up in his room, lying on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, recalling any memory his mind will give him.  When one comes to the surface, he tries to assign ownership.

Dom.

Mal.

Himself.

It's only when the memories begin to belong to _Eames, Eames, Eames_ does the tension that's strung his muscles tight release.

It's only then that he falls asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to annejumps for beta reading awesomeness. :D


	3. Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time Arthur wakes from sleeping fourteen hours straight he doesn't feel rested, he feels hungover and disoriented. Even though his hands are unsteady, he shaves because of regs he's not even sure are being enforced anymore, and the unrelenting itch is more than he can deal with right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very many thanks to annejumps for beta reading. She is 80+ kinds of awesome.

By the time Arthur wakes from sleeping fourteen hours straight he doesn't feel rested, he feels hungover and disoriented.  Even though his hands are unsteady, he shaves because of regs he's not even sure are being enforced anymore, and the unrelenting itch is more than he can deal with right now.  As he towels off his face, he wonders what Yusuf reported to Saito and what orders have been doled out accordingly.  Nobody's been knocking on his door and he's pretty sure, given their nature, Sasha and Aleksis would have checked on him by now unless told not to.

As for Eames?

He has no goddamn idea what Eames will and won't do anymore and he's nowhere near the right state of mind to try and sort that out.  Christ, he's not in much shape to do anything right now.  It's something that becomes glaringly apparent when he ventures out of his quarters around noon and heads towards the mess hall, his body having skipped right past the benign feeling of hunger and barreling right into feeling queasy and even more sluggish.

After spending so many days in seclusion the loudness and bustle of people is jarring and grating.  He's honestly torn between either aborting, taking the next asshole that invades his personal space in the food line to their knees, or just gritting his teeth and keep his shit together.  He opts for the last one, even though there's a few near misses with number two.

The moment he enters the dining area, though, the air takes on a nervous edge, honed by a titter of whispers and quick not-so-subtle glances at him.  In the middle of the room Penny's and Ringer's crews have taken over two tables.  There are some hand motions, welcoming him over, but Arthur isn't ready.  He's not sure he will be for a while yet.  So, he just nods in acknowledgment and thanks, and then heads for an empty table at the far end of the hall along the perimeter and puts his back to the wall.  Amazing how old habits come back with a vengeance when you feel a shaky, because while he's not explicitly watching the comings and goings, he's aware.  Aware enough to know that Ariadne is going to join him long before she does.

He gives her points for not asking for permission and not offering an awkward greeting.  She just claims the spot across from him like it was saved just for her.

"So I'm guessing by the way Sasha was glaring at me before the briefing that you've already been given the rundown," she says conversationally as she tears her roll in half.

"Your name's Ariadne, part of the last batch to graduate from the Jaeger Academy, and you're Eames' copilot."

She takes a bite of bread, chews, swallows, and nods. "Sort of with the Academy thing. Most of my training was actually in the Proving Ground labs."

That causes Arthur to take pause and really look at her. "As a J-Tech or labrat?" he asks because he'll be damned if he assumes anything at this point.

"J-Tech. I was a postdoc working on the next generation PONS.  During testing I accidentally impressed all the right people and given all that was going on they had me switch to pilot training and kind of follow in Dr. Lightcap's footsteps."  Ariadne leans forward a bit, catches his gaze and holds it, her expression far too knowing.  "Just so you know: when I was a J-Tech, Miles was my mentor."

Arthur goes still.

Miles. 

Mal's father, Miles.

Jesus Christ, the PPDC is a god damn soap opera.

"How many live drops have you had?" he forces himself to ask because he'll be damned if he looks away first. 

Ariadne tilts her head to the side at the question and studies him before she answers. "Three, all with Penrose and Eames.  First two were a double deploy though."

"Lab to CONN-pod had to be quite an adjustment."

"Yeah.  I guess so.  It's just, piloting a Jaeger, the Drift…it's so much more than I could have imagined even understanding the systems and mechanics inside and out.  It's pure cause and effect on a scale so much larger than ourselves. I just…it's incredible."  Sheer joy and wonder lights her face and words.  Arthur smiles softly in return and envies her.  It's that envy that provokes him to needle her.

"Your first live drop was with Cherno?"

Ariadne finally looks away and winces.  "Yeah.  It…wasn't one of my best."

"Chased the R.A.B.I.T.?" he asks even though he knows the answer and knows he's being an asshole.

"Given the Kaidonovskys' high opinion of me do you really have to ask?" Ariadne replies, both her tone and small smile self-deprecating.  God, he wants to hate her, but she's a good kid.  She's just so damn green and clearly still in the honeymoon phase of being a Ranger it's enough to give him a headache. 

She hasn't been severely injured yet.

Hasn't lost anybody in combat.

Hasn't lost herself.

Arthur forces himself not to wince but apparently he doesn't get control of his expression quite fast enough or she's damn observant.

"How are you feeling?" she asks and is disarmingly sincere.

He can see how she's Drift compatible with Eames and that thought turns his stomach and nauseates him.

"I'm fine," Arthur automatically replies and swallows down bile as his gaze flicks past her shoulder to Sasha approaching them, her expression unreadable.  She comes to a stop in front of their table, puts her hands on her hips, and focuses completely on him. 

"Good. You have crawled out of hole before you needed to be drug out.  Now, come.  There is a meeting."

Arthur smirks and shakes his head as tosses his silverware on the tray, Sasha's briskness a familiar comfort.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.

"I'm glad we finally had a chance to talk," Ariadne offers as he stands.

"Me too," he replies and nods his goodbye and follows Sasha.  As they leave the the mess hall, Arthur tosses his tray on the little conveyor belt.

"Is she giving you trouble?"  Sasha asks once they make a left down a less busy corridor heading deeper into the Shatterdome.

"Is there really a meeting?" he replies.

"Yes."

Arthur stops because doing this in the middle of a not-so-busy hall is going to be better than waiting until later.  Lord knows how long it's going to be until he falls apart again. "Sasha."

She turns and takes a few steps back towards him, eyebrow arched and gaze scrutinizing.  He knows that what he has to say is going to go over oh so well.

"Ariadne's young in ways we never were."

Fury snaps Sasha's expression tight and feral, pulls back her lips and bears her teeth.  "Things are not _right_.  Things have happened and things are happening that should not be and you will not convince _us_ differently.  _We know you_."

Arthur winces and forces himself not to recoil away from her.  His reaction is so very against his nature that it just serves to underscore how fucked up he is and _that_ summons his anger.  "It's not _things,_ Sasha.  It's _me,_ " he grinds out and _Jesus fucking Christ_ why can't she see that?  He's the one that couldn't keep his shit together, couldn't keep memories straight and he let them twist and stretch his mind until his psyche _snapped_.

"Idiots.  All of you are _idiots_.  And now we are _late_ ," she snarls.  Pivoting sharply she continues stalking down the corridor.  Arthur balls his fists, follows her through twists and turns to Saito's small office, feeling threadbare and shaky.  By the time they enter and the door closes behind them, they've both managed to mostly swallow down their anger because they are god damn professionals and that's what professionals do.

"Mr. Levine. Please, have a seat," Saito says and gestures to one of the chairs in front of his desk.  Sasha pivots the other chair as Arthur sits so that she has a view of both Saito and him.  When she drops down into it a wicked haughty little smirk cants her lips but her eyes take on a much more playful light which means that whatever this little meeting is about, it's going to be a doozy.

"I have been informed by Marshall Pentecost that we will soon come to a crossroads.  One that requires a _Leap of Faith_ ," Saito says.

Arthur sits back in his chair heavily at the decade-old codename.  Leap of Faith.  Nukes.  One of the few things they had stayed the hell away from while they were running not exactly aboveboard paramilitary ops and spy games at Proclus Security. Back when sixty-meter monsters only existed in fiction.

Correction:  there was one time they tried to procure a nuke.  That had ended in a clusterfuck.

"You want to revisit the Cobol Job?" Arthur says and lets his expression and voice show how little he thinks of that idea.

"We are not men who have the luxury of thinking that we will grow old."

Arthur gets the message.  "Who will the mark be?"

Sasha takes a break from smirking like the cat who ate the nuclear disarmament treaty canary to answer. "Package was acquired three days ago by my contacts. Fischer-Morrow Syndicate is not as organized when founder is on death bed."

Arthur arches an eyebrow.  Of course Saito would want to fuck over Fischer-Morrow one last time. Saito just inclines his head regally in acknowledgment.

"So what's the problem?"

"My contacts saw a window of opportunity and took action two weeks early.  Transport will take package no further than Hanoi.  We are not ready for pick-up."

"When's it suppose to arrive?"

"Six days."

"And we have to trek it the rest of the, what? Eleven hundred kilometers?" His mind is already at work. 

"Close enough. Given road conditions, will take a day by land driving straight through to complete delivery.  Provided no problems."

As much as Arthur hates it, modified semi is probably still the best and safest way to transport nukes.

Saito re-enters the conversation. "As you can see, we find ourselves in need of your old skill set."

"Have you spoken with Yusuf?" Arthur asks.

"I have.  I am confident in your abilities.  You were the best at what you did.  I doubt that has changed."

What Arthur used to do was research and logistics.  Crossing t's, dotting i's, making sure their people got in and out OK, and kneecapping assholes who jeopardized that.

"We'll need aliases and proper docs if you want to fly under Interpol, the UN, and the PPDC's radar.  What's the pickup protocol?"

Sasha smiles tightly, a blatant challenge. "Aleksis, you, and I will handle pickup along with small squad of Strike Troopers.  As for papers:  Eames."

Of course. Eames.  And even though suddenly the Shatterdome is too small and entering a world he hasn't really been a part of for six years is better than staying in his quarters, he has to protest. He's still shaky and raw just from his exceedingly brief confrontation with Sasha.  If he can't handle something so familiar as her temper there's no way in hell he'll be able to handle the chaos of being in the field.  Arthur shakes his head. "Given recent events I have no business being on an OP."

"I disagree," Saito replies and it's clear that there's no arguing with him.  His mind is made up.

_God dammit._

Saito reaches into a desk drawer and pulls out an overstuffed manila envelope.  He hands it to Arthur.  "The passport will be ready in two days. Until then, might I suggest you take some time and explore Hong Kong."

It’s not hard to translate that suggestion.  Anything Arthur does to get the job done needs to be off the books and outside the Shatterdome.  No surprises there.  Arthur pulls out the identity dossier from the envelope and as he skims it he can't help but wonder why the hell he didn't wait another day or three before trying to rejoin society. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments! I'm sorry for there being so much time between updates. Some not cool life stuff happened that I've had to work through and it threw me into a head space where I just couldn't really write. I'm not exactly happy with this part but at this point I'm not sure I'll ever be. Fingers crossed that I'll be able to get the next part out faster.

**Author's Note:**

> I have come to the conclusion that Pacific Rim is magic. It's been a hell of a long time since I've written fanfic but I'm very much a long-time-listener-first-time-caller to the Inception fandom. Needless to say, I may be a titch bit nervous. ;) Even though this is an Inception AU fic I've managed to dovetail it into Pacific Rim canon with only a few modifications, most of which have to do with which Jaegers are involved in which battles. Also, take heart, the vast majority of this fic is written and my goal is to finish it up within the next week or two.
> 
> Many many many thanks to both of my beta readers Anndie and annejumps (who also threw out the suggestion of an Inception Pacific Rim AU and then was awesomely supportive when the plot bunny ate my brain). Any and all errors you see are my own and I'm always down for concrit.


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